The Girl
by iloveyouandthatsall
Summary: Marius meets a girl, Eponine. Eponine likes Marius, but not in the way you would think.
1. In St Michel

She was not like other girls, that was for certain. Marius had known this ever since he first laid eyes upon her.

First of all, she did not walk like other girls. Instead of the dainty step which most young women took-even those of her class-she had more the gait of a man: each step heavy, deliberate. Not ungraceful; in fact, it had a grace all its own, though not delicate.

Secondly was the way she acted. She did not play with men. She was always very direct, very frank, sometimes painfully frank. And although she seemed to enjoy the company of other girls, she always seemed to seek out the men. Not in the typical, "gesture and they come" way, but more as friends. Furthermore, when any male seemed to show any interest in her, she would shrug them off before they themselves even knew it.

All this intrigued him. One day, as he had followed Enjolras around in St. Michel, bending down to speak to those who sat, spreading the words of Lamarque, he had watched her. Furtively, he would glance at her out of the corner of his eye, while she would walk around the ramshackle houses, visiting friends. It almost seemed as if she was circling him. Once their eyes met, and her gaze bore holes through him. She knew he was watching.

Quickly, he looked away, and busied himself with the books tucked under his arm. A moment later however, he slowed, and took one last look at the girl-her eyes were still fixed on him. Without a word, he straightened, and headed off for another section of the slums. She did not follow. He was slightly disappointed.

Four days later, he found himself once again in St. Michel, alone this time. Enjolras had wanted him to carry out his tasks without assistance. And once again, she was there.

He tried to ignore her. Even though she was successfully ignoring him, it was not working. Finally, screwing up his courage, he finished conversing with an elderly old man who was sitting beneath a laundry line, and approached her. He could not quite place what drew him to her. He knew only that his feet were swiftly taking him closer and closer to where she stood. Ten feet away from her, she suddenly looked up at him, and he halted, unsure as to what he could say.

"Bonjour, miss," he said hurriedly, extracting a pamphlet from under his arm and halfheartedly offering it to her. "Have you a moment to discuss-"

"I like your hair," she interrupted flatly.

This caught Marius off his feet for a moment. "You-what?"

The girl smiled gently. "I like your hair," she repeated, coming nearer to him. "How you comb it. It becomes you."

Marius did not know what you say, other than, "I...well-thank you." It came as more of a question than a response.

Crossing her arms, the girl kicked a pebble away. She wore only a single, thin skirt, over a soiled chemise, which was cinched around her waist by a thick leather belt with a tarnished buckle. Thrown over her shoulders was a frayed, netted shawl. She wore no shoes. Her long, brown hair tumbled in knots about her face-which, underneath the dirt and grime, he could tell was quite handsome. Pretty, even, under different circumstances.

"I've seen you before," she told him, swinging her foot. "Handing out those papers." Without warning, she snatched the one he had been offering her a moment before, and scanned it. "You think this will help us?"

Carefully, he extracted the paper from her grasp, smiling. "Perhaps," he said. "I believe actions start with words."

"Really?" she said, tilting her head in a curious way. "I believe actions start with actions-there's no point in announcing what you're about to do if you never do it."

"And what makes you think we won't do what we say?" Marius said, a bit defensive.

The girl shrugged. "You want to help the poor?" she said. "So has everyone else. And where has it got us?" She took her filthy skirt in her hands and fanned it out to make her point.

"This time will be different."

"How so?"

"We will fight."

"Fight what? Poverty?"

"In ways."

"You cannot shoot poverty, monsieur Marius," she said with a smirk. With that, she turned away, flourishing her skirt, and began to walk away from him. "Though I would help you try." Marius started to follow her, but suddenly she bolted, and darted down an alleyway, out of sight.

Marius did not even have the presence of mind to shout to her how she knew his name.


	2. Distant Friends

A week after that day, Marius found himself again in that part of St. Michel.

He was not sure whether he was there for his duty to the ABC, or whether it was because he wanted to seek that girl out. If it was the latter, he was not admitting it to himself.

Once more, he descended into the slums, papers tucked under his arm, hat pressed over his head. Unconsciously, he reached up and raked his fingers through a few strands of brown hair which had worked their way free from underneath; her comments had not left his mind.

As he turned a corner, she suddenly stood before him.

"You're back," she said, her dark eyes gleaming. She smiled. "Still spreading your words-before-actions?"

He tipped his hat toward her. "As always," he said, smiling crookedly. It was odd-usually he was a bit less joking about what he did. As soon as he was faced with her, however, all his defensive points and strong opinions seemed to evaporate.

As she had before, she crossed her arms. "Were you looking for me, monsieur Marius?" she asked coyly.

Marius frowned. "I-well..." He straightened, and adjusted his cravat. "No. I was-I happened to come this way."

The girl pursed her lips, then shrugged indifferently. "No matter to me, monsieur Marius," she said. "Only wondering."

"How is it you know my name?"

At this, her face brightened again. "I listen to you and your friends when you come by. That other one, Enjolras, is not as friendly as you."

"He is," Marius countered. "Only when you get to know him."

She stuck her tongue in her cheek. "He's very dedicated to your _cause."_

Marius silently agreed. After a pause, he asked, a bit tentatively, "Would you mind telling me your name?"

"No."

A moment passed. "Well then," said Marius, "what is it?"

"Eponine."

"It is a pleasure to meet you, mademoiselle Eponine." Marius bent in a slight bow. She did the same, which threw him off a little bit.

When she straightened, she asked him, "Do you have any friends, monsieur Marius?"

Marius tilted his head. "Yes," he said. "Of course."

"Do you have any close friends?"

He thought of Courfeyrac. "One."

Eponine bit her lip. "Do you have any distant friends?"

Marius was confused. "What do you mean?"

She explained. "A distant friend is one that you forget you have after meeting, and then when you are with your closer friends, you suddenly remember them, and you bring them into your conversation. And then you forget again."

Marius thought, and shook his head, and said, "I can't say I do."

"Fine," said Eponine. "Then I shall be your distant friend."

He chewed the inside of his mouth, before saying, "I'm afraid I'm not familiar with that sort of acquaintance."

Eponine shrugged, and smiled. "You'll learn," she said. "Goodbye, monsieur Marius. I shall see you later."

"Wait!" he cried, but it was too late. She had already dashed away and turned a corner, and was out of sight.

Marius had doubts about this "distant friend" agreement-he did not consider her very easy to forget.


	3. Preferences

Early one evening, a few blocks from the Cafe Musain, Marius spotted Eponine once more.

She seemed to have a penchant for hiding behind buildings, as this was not the first time he had seen her around there. Just the afternoon before, he had seen her peeking at him from behind a corner bakery. When he tried to approached her, she disappeared, as if she had never been there in the first place. If he'd had to use any term to describe her at present, it would have been along the lines of "mind boggling", or just plain "confusing". She came and went so swiftly it nearly made him dizzy.

This evening, however, she did not disappear. Instead, she emerged from her place behind the cobbler's shop, and came forth to greet him.

"Good evening, monsieur!" she said brightly, beaming. "Going home from one of your meetings?"

Marius nodded tiredly. He was a bit exhausted-the ABC had kept him in for more than four hours, debating, discussing, planning. He found that by the time he walked out the door, he was hoarse from speaking. For the first time in a while, he welcomed the lonely walk home to his apartment.

Until he had discovered that he in fact was not alone.

"I can see you're beat," she said, leaning forward and pointing at his face. "Your eyes are drooping."

Without thinking, he rubbed them. They were dry, and it hurt. "No matter," he said, sniffing and letting his hand drop to his side.

"You may fall asleep as you stand," said Eponine, jokingly.

"I'll be fine." To reassure her, Marius tried to grin, but managed only a weak smile.

The girl shook her head, clicking her tongue. "I can walk you home, if you wish," she told him. "In case you start nodding off, I can catch you. Unless you have qualms...?" She gazed at him hopefully.

"Why would I?"

She shrugged. "You, a young man, being seen out here with a girl like me. Sometimes it's not a good thing, being seen walking around with little Eponine. Actually, it's never a good thing." She kicked a pebble, hands clasped behind her back.

After a moment, Marius reached out, and set a hand on her shoulder. She froze, and slowly looked up at him. "Come on," he said quietly, cocking his head in the direction of his apartment. "Walk next to me."

The girl stared at him for a moment, then grinned gleefully, bouncing on the balls of her bare feet. Without a word, they set off in the same direction.

There were hardly any people out on the street. Other than for a few stragglers, beggars, they were the only ones.

"I don't usually follow men back to their homes," said Eponine, straightening her limp skirt. "I mean, unless I'm asked to, but usually then it's for different reasons."

"What reasons would those be?"

She quirked an eyebrow. "None of your business."

They walked in silence for a while, then Marius felt bold enough to say, "I'll bet they follow you."

Eponine looked at him. "What is that supposed to mean?" she said gravely.

He felt himself blush beneath his shirt collar. "I, well-I meant..." He coughed. "You're...you're interesting. And you're...pretty?" It came out as more of a question than a statement.

Eponine blinked. "You think I'm pretty?"

"Well," said Marius, "isn't-ah-isn't that already...sort of a given?"

She stared at him dreamily for a moment, then answered, "No." Looking back downwards, she went on fumbling with her skirt, murmuring, "He thinks I'm pretty..." Marius could feel his stomach plummeting to his feet. He had a ways about women, didn't he? he thought, tugging at his collar when she could not see.

Eponine lifted her eyes to him once more. "No, monsier Marius," said she. "They don't follow me, because I don't let them."

This puzzled him. "Why not?"

"I am not like other girls, monsieur Marius."

Marius snorted. "Well, that much is apparent."

"You wouldn't understand," she said, half smiling, and walking ahead of him.

Catching up to her, he called, "I am a student-it is my duty to understand."

"This is not something you teach."

He got ahead of her, and blocked her way. They stood in the middle of the road. "Then what is it?" he said, catching his breath. "What is it that makes you different?"

Eponine paused, opened her mouth, then closed it again. "I-" she began, then faltered. "My preferences," she tried again, phrasing each word carefully, "are different."

Puzzled, Marius repeated, "Preferences?"

"See?" she said, waving her hand and starting forward. "You don't understand."

"You're not really trying to help me," he replied, blocking the way.

She sighed impatiently. "My preferences are different," she said again.

"Meaning?"

"I like different things," she said, as if it were obvious. "Different than what I'm supposed to-what girls are supposed to." Awkwardly, she set her hands on her hips and looked around, as if searching for some kind of escape.

"Alright." Marius raised his head a bit. "What is it that you like that is...different?"

She sneered. A moment later, she beckoned for him to come closer. He did, and she breathed an answer into his ear.

"I don't like men."

Marius could not quite comprehend what this meant. "What?" he said, blinking. "As in...as in they're not friendly?"

"No!" said Eponine. She laid a hand over her breast. "I don't like men."

Marius was silent. She said nothing-she was not going to give it up that easily.

All of a sudden, Marius staggered backwards, as if something had just hit him in the head. "You!" he said, pointing at her. She frowned. "You don't like-so you like-" He trailed off, his eyes the size of saucers.

Slowly, she nodded. To make sure, Marius mouthed one last word: "Girls?"

"Yes." Now that he understood, Eponine smiled, satisfied. She backed away from him. "Now you know." Seeing his shocked expression, she laughed. "Are you so surprised?"

Marius choked a little on his words, then managed to sputter, "Yes."

She giggled. "It's not every day that I tell people, you know. You're only the fifth person I've ever let on to." She walked around him, and started towards his apartment once more. This time, Marius did not stop her.

"Who are the other four?" he asked, catching up with her.

"My family. But they don't really count." She glanced down at the cobblestones, a blank look in her eyes. "They don't count at all."

Marius took a breath. This was definitely not what he had been expecting, that was for certain. Sure, he had heard of such things, but he had never...encountered it. He was pained to admit that it fascinated him.

"You don't mind, do you?" she said, hesitant. "I can still be your distant friend, can't I?"

He looked at her for a while, dark brown hair tumbling over her dirty face, eyes gleaming childishly beneath the dirt, and - checking that there was no one around to see - put an arm around her shoulders, as he would with Courfeyrac, or any other friend of his. "Not at all, mme. 'Ponine," he said. "I actually think that we'll be better than distant friends."

Eponine smiled. "I'm glad, monsieur Marius," she said.

And they continued down the road, the two friends, as the moon rose slowly above Paris.

**A/N: Hello, readers! Usually I don't like doing A/N's, because I think they interfere with the story, but I thought now that the third chapter is in place, I might as well put one here.**

**This is an idea that has been plaguing me for months. I haven't seen it anywhere else, so here you go.**

**If you have any ideas, suggestions, or just want to tell me what you think, don't be afraid to leave a review-I don't bite.**


	4. About Eponine, and Other Things

Eponine Thenardier was seventeen years old. Until age nine, she had been a thoroughly spoiled child, having enough dresses, dolls, and bonnets to spare for five girls. Her parents had owned an inn in Monfermeil then, but they were unwise in the business and had to sell the place for next to nothing. She'd lost the dolls and the dresses, but she didn't really mind, she said. They were toys-little girls must grow out of toys at some point. Marius learned all of this through several days of questioning, sitting at a table just inside the Musain during late afternoons.

She was also the eldest of three children. "Azelma's the prettiest," she explained to him over a cup of wine. "She's the middle one. People look at her more than me. We used to go watching together, but I think she hates me now." Watching was her term for "hiding and staring at people"; it was a hobby as well as a duty of hers, in some cases.

"Then what about the third?" Marius pressed, eager to know all there was to know. "You said there was three."

"Third?" she said vacantly. "Oh, Gavroche. My brother. He's the youngest."

"Gavroche?" he repeated, crossing his arms. "The little gamin?"

"Currently works as your page-boy here." Eponine gestured at the tables of students. She laughed. "He's wild."

"I've noticed."

"He ran away when he was nine. Parents didn't care."

"He seems quite independent."

"Yes." In a movement, to Marius, quite reminiscent of Grantaire, she placed one foot on the seat of the chair, took her glass, and leaned casually against the back of the chair. Marius found himself blinking at the sight. Sometimes her gestures were so careless and reminded him so much of a man he hardly knew who he was talking to anymore. He had to consciously remind himself to take note of her skirt at times._  
_

"Have I answered all your questions, Monsieur Marius?" she said, giving a little sigh. "Are you satisfied?"

"Nearly," he replied with a smile. "I am a lawyer, you know."

"Too true."

Marius chuckled, the proceeded with his next question. "About your...preferrence," he began cautiously. This had not been mentioned since that evening she had told him about it-there seemed no need to bring it up again. It was a given, yet it was a given he was curious about.

Eponine quirked an eyebrow. "Yes?"

"Well," he said, shrugging, "have you...have you ever had a - well, a - any - " He couldn't seem to find the appropriate term.

She supplied it for him. "Sweetheart?"

He nodded wordlessly.

"No."

Tilted his head.

"Well, that's not quite true. There was a girl about a year ago who lived along the Seine. It was never really...anything."

Nodded slowly.

"She went away not long after that. Her mother died." A moment passed, then suddenly she giggled. "You know what she did?"

Quirked an eyebrow.

"She got sent off to a convent."

Marius snorted into his wine. "If he had been unsure about what made this notion humorous, Eponine wasted no time in clearing it up.

"I suppose, maybe, she felt guilty about it. Me. Maybe she thought praying wouldn't be enough. So she went away...to a place full of women." She grinned. "she must be having a time there."

It was vulgar, they both knew it - especially to be discussing such things out in the open, with people nearby. But somehow they knew it was alright; true, a few head turned, a few words murmured, it didn't matter. Marius, and Eponine to an extent, knew none of it would leave the confines of the cafe.

They talked for a while longer, then decided to part after Joly began to complain of his chest pains in a loud voice (for the fourth time that day). The light had dimmed to a deep blue beyond the windows. Stepping outside the cafe, the two quickly donned their overclothes: Marius his worn, threadbare coat, Eponine her frayed shawl. He pointed out the holes in her garment.

"I've been meaning to patch it," she remarked, managing to poke her entire hand through one of the gaping recesses. "But thread is hard to come by."

"My landlady has ample supply," Marius said, laughingly. "I could borrow some, bring it by next I see you."

Eponine beamed, being cautious not to bare her teeth in doing so. "You're too kind, monsieur. Much too kind." For a second she was silent, as if contemplating something. "Sometimes I wonder whether I'm kind to you."

This caught Marius slightly off-guard. "Of course you are," he said. "Why would you think different?"

She shrugged. "Sometimes I think it would be better if you didn't know me. There are a few things...that would hurt you if you knew them. Those sorts of things."

"What?" said Marius, slightly apprehensive now. "What things?"

She hesitated, drawing the shawl around herself. "Just things," she answered finally. "You'll find them out sooner or later. Or better yet, they'll find you. Pray that it's a long time before that happens. I'll try my best to keep it that way."

Marius did not quite know how to react to this; he had no idea what she was talking about, yet made no effort of ask. It seemed clear to him that it was were intent to remain vague about it. So he only nodded, giving a half smile to her. She seemed surprised.

"No questions, monsieur?" she said, feigning astonishment.

Marius laughed. "For tonight," he replied. "I thought I would restrain myself this once." He paused. "Maybe I would walk you back."

Eponine stared. "To the slums?"

"As far as you permit, if that's what you wish."

Eponine looked at him a while, as if sizing him up. Then, nodding in approval, she came towards him. "Another nightly stroll," she said, reaching up and setting a hand on his shoulder. Smiling gently, she patted the other. "Sounds good to me."

**A/N: FINALLY.**

**May seem a little filler, but I've got more coming. Be prepared for Blue Blouse. :D R&R, if ya please!**


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